


Born Wilder

by InArlathan



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dalish Elven Culture and Customs, Dalish Elves, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22677838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InArlathan/pseuds/InArlathan
Summary: While running errands in the Hinterlands, Lavellan thinks back at her time with her clan and tries to come to terms with her new life with the Inquisition.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	Born Wilder

**Author's Note:**

> After writing a lot of Solavellan romance with a non-specific Lavellan, I was in the mood to write with my Elenara Lavellan again. You can find more about her [here](https://in-arlathan.tumblr.com/tagged/elenara-lavellan). Reach out to me on [Tumblr](https://in-arlathan.tumblr.com), if you like. Happy reading!

“So, Chuckles,” Varric said, “is it true you spend most of your time in the Fade?”

“As much as is possible, yes,” Solas answered with a curious side-glance. “The Fade contains a wealth of knowledge for those who know where to look.”

The dwarf scoffed.  **“** I don't know how you dream, let alone wander around in there. Especially when the shit that comes out of the Fade generally seems...  _ pretty cranky. _ ”

“So are humans, but we continue to interact with them…,” Solas replied with a smile tugging at his lips. “When we must.”

“Point taken,” Varric said.

Cassandra made a disgruntled face. “If you gentlemen are quite finished…”

“Come now, seeker…”

Elenara smiled, despite only half-listening to her companions. She was too busy keeping an eye out for rebel mages or rogue templars in the surrounding forest. It hadn’t been long since the party had stumbled in a battle between both sides and she was not keen to repeat that experience just yet.

They had spent the last week traversing the Hinterlands, running errands on behalf of the Inquisition. Every now and then, Solas or Cassandra urged her to call the retreat, get back to Haven and move on to Val Royeaux to speak to the remaining clerics of the Chantry. Elenara, on the other hand, didn’t want to rush the matter. She was rather happy to be out in the wilderness again, even as an envoy of the Inquisition. The rustling leaves and whispering wind reminded her of a time when everything had been much simpler. Before the sky had been torn apart.

If only she could remember what had happened at the conclave…

Elenara squared her shoulders, wiping sweat from her brow with one hand. Dwelling on the matter was no use. Her memories wouldn’t return just because she wanted them to. The only choice she had was to focus on what was before her: the refugees that required her help. She had decided that their lives mattered more than her knowing what had transpired at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. And so she hurried through the Hinterlands, doing everything she could to make them feel safe and protected. As if somehow, through her own actions, she could feel safe and protected, too.

Her companions didn’t seem to take much liking to the remote wilderness, though. Varric used any chance he got to complain about the weather, the people, the food, and the lack of proper ale. Even Cassandra, who had been at odds with the dwarf since Elenara met her, seemed to agree with him, but she did not voice her contempt as loudly as he did. Only Solas kept quiet and dismissed any of her questions if he felt ill at ease. “What we accomplish here will one day serve us in our mission to seal the Breach,” he said. “That is more important than my personal comfort.”

“We’re almost there,” Elenara said when they finally exited the woods and the friendly conversation between her companions came to an end. Looking around carefully, she felt a shiver crawl down her spine. Her gaze was fixed on a small hillside by Dwarfson’s Pass where they had set up camp the night before. It was not much, just a few bedrolls arranged around a campfire, plus a chest in which they had stored some of their supplies. Nothing of value or importance that would draw the attention of scavengers or bandits. And yet, Elenara couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

“Hurry,” she shouted and started into a run, racing up the hill with her senses on high alert. Behind her, she could hear Varric groan with exhaustion as he tried to keep up with Solas and Cassandra who followed Elenara with relative ease. 

“Shit,” was all she said when their camp came into view.

The bedrolls lay scattered and had clearly been searched, and the chest with their supplies was missing. Whoever robbed than even took the bushels of elf root they had hung on a small rag to dry them before transport. 

Cassandra, Solas, and Varric reached the camp shortly after, looking around in confusion. The dwarf swore under his breath, as he searched his bedroll. “Those bastards took my notes,” he exclaimed. “I stored them in a small compartment … ah, nevermind.”

“I’m sorry,” Elenara said and meant it.

“Don’t blame yourself,” Varric said with a handwave. “This should teach me not to leave my writing lying about while I run off to kill people.”

“Do any of you have any supplies with you?” Cassandra asked.

Solas checked his backpack, as well as the small bags on his belts. “Sadly, no,” he told the seeker. “I thought I had some bread left, but come to think of it, I must have placed it in the chest with the rest of our supplies.”

“I only have two bottles of dwarven ale from last night,” Varric added after a quick glance into his baggage. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Great!” Cassandra growled. “What a perfect mess. The sun is already setting. It’ll be dark before we have the chance to get to Winter Watch Tower to ask for help.”

“I guess you are correct,” Elenara admitted. “But we don’t need to get to the fortress to sustain ourselves.”

Varric raised an eyebrow at that. “What do you suggest, Lavellan? Lie in wait for some travelers to ask them for help?”

“Creators, no.” Elenara shook her head, slightly amused. “You really don’t spend much time out in the wilds, do you?”

“Not, if I can avoid it,” Varric said.

“Well, I’ll take care of this,” she announced and checked her quiver and bow. She had enough arrows left, and the rope in her backpack would come in handy when making snares. “I suggest you go and search for wood to make a fire with before it’s dark. I’ll be back in no time.”

With that, she turned on her heels and made her way down the hill again. The prospect of being alone in the woods – truly alone – made her feel giddy and foolish like a little girl. Keeper Deshanna wouldn’t have liked it. 

She was already half-way down the hill when behind her Solas asked. “Where are you going,  _ lethallin _ ?”

Elenara turned to smile at the apostate.

“The wilderness contains a wealth of sustenance for those who know where to look,” she said and spread her arms wide. 

* * *

She returned to the camp with two small nugs as her prey. The dead animals were dangling for a piece of rope she had used to tie them together. She hadn’t even needed her arrows to kill them. All she had done was laying out a few snares in the undergrowth and wait for the creatures to walk into her traps. For an experienced hunter like her, it had been an easy task, as simple as putting on clothes. Still, Cassandra and Varric eyed her suspiciously when she presented the animals to them.

“Our dinner,” she told them and dropped the nugs next to the fire.

Varric stared at her in disbelieve.

“That was remarkably quick,” Cassandra said, brows furrowed. “You’ve been away for what… three hours?”

Elenara made a vague gesture. “Give or take.”

She relieved herself of her backpack, quiver, and bow, and placed all of her belongings on her bedroll. Her companions had used her absence to rearrange the camp and get a decent fire burning. Solas was stoking the embers with a stick, making the flames grow higher while Elenara searched for her hunting knife.

“Nugs are fine and all,” Varric said, nibbling at one of the bottles of dwarven ale he'd carried around with him all day, “but how exactly are we going to eat them?”

Solas let out a soft laugh but didn’t dare look up from the dancing flames.

“Anything on your mind, Chuckles?” Varric growled. 

“No, I’m fine. Thank you,” the apostate said, lips still pursed in a smile. 

“Sure.”

Elenara found the hunting knife in her backpack and removed it from the leather sheath she stored it in. The steel blade reflected the light of the campfire as she turned it in her hand, marveling at its beauty. It had been a gift, given to her by her childhood friend Erendir when she had come of age. “It’ll serve you good, wherever you go,” he’d said.

She wondered where he was now. What he might think of her.

_ I will do everything within my power to keep you and the clan safe _ , she thought and turned her gaze to the sky. The Breach was only a faint shimmer in the darkness but she could feel it lingering on, waiting for her to return to Haven.

_ Focus on what is before you _ , she reminded herself, sat down cross-legged and freed one of the nugs from the rope. Without giving it much thought, she pierced through the skin of the animal with her blade and made a set of cuts. She stripped the skin from the nug with a quick  thrust , and Varric made a disgusted sound.

“Andraste’s ass, Lavellan!” he exclaimed, leaning away from her with one hand raised as if he was trying to defend himself against an attacker. “Please tell me, you did not just do that!”

Elenara grinned. She liked Varric, but he had lived behind the walls of Kirkwall for far too long. With his fondness for city living, he could barely manage to endure a bit of rain without complaining. To shock him like this was mildly amusing to her, to say the least. 

“Where did you think meat comes from, Varric?” Cassandra asked. When the dwarf didn’t answer, the seeker turned her eyes back to the nug and pressed her lips into a thin line. “Though, I do admit it looks more …  _ invasive _ than I expected."

“You'll get used to it.” Elenara put a stick through the skinned nug and placed it on the fire, then picked up the second one. “There’s something satisfying about it, too. To know that you brought in the food to sustain yourself.”

“I’d rather bring in more bottles of these, thank you very much,” Varric said, waving around the dwarven ale. 

“As a merchant, you certainly enjoy that privilege,” Solas admitted and stopped stoking the fire. He sat down and wrapped his arms around his legs, regarding Varric intently. “You are a successful businessman, are you not? Besides being a well-renowned author, I mean.”

“And here I was, thinking you didn’t mind what’s happening in the real world, Chuckles,” Varric said gleefully. “You continue to surprise me.”

And so the two of them picked up their conversation of Solas’s exploration of the Fade as if no time had passed. Elenara would’ve been happy to listen to them while she waited for the meat to be roasted by the fire. As distant as the elven apostate behaved towards her, she enjoyed Solas’s tales about memories he had found in ancient dreams. But this night, all she could think about was how strange the life of the Dalish must seem to other people if even an experienced adventurer such as Varric was grossed out by something so mundane as preparing the meat for cooking. 

Taking care of her food – be it meat or bread or berries – was as natural as breathing to her. It was a necessity when spending your life as a traveler. But that wasn’t the only thing she had learned with her clan. She knew how to weave and knit and sew. Or how to read tracks and take care of the halla in their little pens. She even helped repair the aravels on more than one occasion. And she’d done all of it gladly to serve the Lavellan clan. Such hardship had seemed like a small price to pay if it meant that her family stayed safe and fed, and she’d spent a lot of time practicing and making use of her talents.

With the Inquisition, however, none of these talents seemed to matter anymore. Every morning she awoke in her cabin in Haven, a servant had already made breakfast for her. Before she had time to finish the meal, someone else showed up to bring her new clothing or clean the room for her. She’d known that humans lived very differently compared to the Dalish, and when she joined the Inquisition, she had been sure she could attune to this new lifestyle. And yet, after weeks, it still felt so inherently wrong that she ran off into the forest to hunt on her own at first chance. Out there in the woods, the world had finally made sense to her once more.

Like so many Dalish, she’d been born out in the wilderness. Roaming the vast plains and lush forests of the Free Marches had been second nature to her ever since she had come into this world. And although there had been a time when she had wished she could venture away from the clan to explore some old ruin or seek out education form human scholars, she never truly wanted to leave her old life behind. It was ingrained in her mind and body, her very being. It was who she was.

She only hoped she could go back to the life she lived before when the Breach was sealed.

“Hey, Lavellan,” Varric roared. “Are you still with us?”

Elenara blinked. “Wh–what?”

The dwarf laughed. “You must have been very far away,” he said and tapped a finger to his temple. “I asked you three times if you wanted to share a story with us, but you wouldn’t respond.”

“Oh.” She shifted on her bedroll, trying to push the feeling of embarrassment aside. “Really? I’m sorry. I was… distracted.”

“Yeah, I could see that,“ Varric replied with a roguish grin on his face. “So, do you have a story to share?”

She looked around, taken aback by the dwarf's request. Even Solas and Cassandra seemed interested in what she had to say, which only added to her confusion.

“Why would you care to hear it?” she asked suspiciously.

“We all have something that defines us. Some story we tell ourselves about who we are and who we want to be.” Varric gestured towards Cassandra. “The seeker, for instance, talks about duty all the time, because that is what defines her. Chuckles here can’t shut up about the Veil and the Fade, because that is what defines  _ him. _ ”

Solas narrowed his eyes at that. “I don’t  _ always _ talk about the Fade.”

Varric gave the apostate a skeptical look, then turned his attention back to Elenara. “Point is, Lavellan, besides you spying on the conclave and doing your best to seal the Breach, I couldn’t help but notice that we don’t really know much about you.”

“Won’t you be disgusted by the barbaric Dalish customs?” she asked pointedly and nodded towards the nugs that still roasted over the fire.

“You take me far too seriously, Lavellan.” Varric laughed again. “One more reason why we should get better acquainted, don’t you think?”

A faint smile tugged at Elenara’s lips. “There is one story, actually.”

“That’s great.” Varric took a sip from his bottle. “Let’s hear it. The meal won’t be ready for another hour anyway, I guess." 

Elenara stretched out on her bedroll, head propped on one hand. “One day, the clan was camped outside of Starkhaven…”


End file.
